Dark New World (Book 3): EMP Deadfall (4 page)

He paused, looking thoughtful, before continuing. “Like you said, Ethan, we’re in a different world now. It’s a dangerous world. It kills people. And we’re trying to build a new society, maybe better than the old one that stopped working when the lights went out. That world’s dead and will be for a long time. Maybe forever. And here, now, in our chancy new world, things still can get dicey again. They probably will, actually. So if you want to survive, and you want Amber and her daughter to survive with you in whatever safety there might be, then you gotta fit in. You
need
to make an effort to show you’re in the in-group, not an outsider. It’s that simple. You follow whatever morals the group has as a whole until the Clan feels more secure about you and Amber, or whatever. Even if you don’t agree.”

He gave Ethan a worried look, and Ethan broke into a laugh. Frank’s features turned angry until Ethan held up a placating hand, still smiling. “I’m sorry, Frank. I know you’re right, and I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that I was reading about evolutionary psychology the other day, and you just described it perfectly. I guess you’re pretty smart, but that doesn’t surprise me. You’re a good leader, after all.”

Frank looked uncomfortable. “Um… Okay. What the hell is evolutionary psychology, and what’s it got to do with us? Sounds pretty useless outside a classroom.”

“Not really. I’m actually glad you reminded me. It’s a field where they figured out there’s an evolutionary benefit to showing the other people in a tribe that you’re one of them, that you share the same basic values. Every tribe—or culture—has a very clear bias on this, that, and the other thing they consider important. Showing you support their biases strengthens the group dynamic, and that’s important to survival, or it can be. You just pointed out that it’s important to survival right here, for us, if we want the tribe to pass on their genes and ideas from one generation to the next. That’s what it’s about.”

Frank grinned at the Clan’s resident intellectual geek. “That’s a mouthful, Ethan. But it rings true, eh? Go along to get along, I guess that sums it up pretty good.”

Ethan nodded, and replied, “Yeah. Nicely put. Okay, don’t worry about me. I won’t make any more waves about this until you or Cassy say so, just to be sure, because I’m not always good at being part of anything. But Frank… I don’t think I can wait forever.”

Frank nodded and chuckled, putting a friendly hand on Ethan’s shoulder as the chow bell rang in the distance. “C’mon, Ryder-man. Let’s go get some grub.”

* * *

1300 HOURS - ZERO DAY +18

Frank looked up from digging up the last potatoes of the season as Michael and Cassy rode back into the farm’s yard with two other people on horseback. Good, he thought. Her last trip had been disappointing and apparently gruesome. He stopped digging and stood straight, wiping his hands against each other then stretching his back and neck. That done, he smiled and waved. Michael was doing his eyes-everywhere thing, a scout being super-aware of his surroundings. Cassy saw Frank and waved back. When they came to a stop nearby, Frank walked over to help Cassy dismount and clasped her on the shoulder. “Welcome back, Cassy. Michael. Let’s get you all some water, and you can introduce us to your new friends.”

Frank caught an odd look between Cassy and Michael and a similar glance between the couple they had brought in. Well, that was odd. He’d have to keep an eye on that situation. If it was a case of “too many tomcats in one room,” he and Cassy would have a decision to make. Frank just did not want to deal with it if he didn’t have to.

Cassy nodded. “I could use some water, and the horses must be thirsty. Thanks. So, this is a couple I knew before the lights went out. Mr. Dean Jepson and his wife, Monique. Jepsons, this is Frank Conzet, the guy who put our Clan together and led us safely here.”

Frank shook their hands. “Not just me, and not entirely safely. We lost one on the way, a good friend and a good man. And once we got here, Cassy’s the boss, not me. No amount of money could get me to take that role again,” he chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. How do you know Cassy?”

Monique stiffened at that while Dean glanced at her, with what Frank thought was apprehension. Interesting. Dammit, there better not be bad blood there. No one needed that, but Cassy was just the sort of person who’d bring in people in need even if they weren’t a great fit for the group…

“Oh, we go way back,” replied Dean. “And it wasn’t always very friendly.”

Monique pursed her lips, then interrupted. “I was on the code enforcement team at County. Cassy didn’t like some of the codes. It went to an administrative hearing, and Cassy won. End of story, I guess. Anyway, that code doesn’t mean much anymore. It was a different time.”

Frank watched Cassy closely as Monique spoke, and was unsettled by the tense expression on her face. Yep, he’d keep a damn close eye on those two. “Well, that’s all over now, right? No codes need enforcing, at least not until things go back to normal. If they ever do. You’re very welcome here if Cassy says so; we can always use another set or two of hands. Got farming experience, Mr. Jepson?”

Dean nodded. “I reckon I do, a fair bit of experience. I’m sure we can earn our keep pretty good, yes sir. Thanks for inviting us. We’ll see how this goes. I won’t be anyone’s burden, Frank. We’ll earn our keep or go. But we’re private folks stuck in our ways. I imagine it’ll be an adjustment, but we’ll fit in if we can.”

Frank nodded and put on a friendly face, reflecting that now he knew the term, he could recognize evolutionary psychology when it happened right in front of him. Useful idea. That Ethan was proving his worth in more ways than just as their resident geek genius about electronic stuff.

* * *

1500 HOURS - ZERO DAY +18

Cassy walked through her house, checking it room by room. Not looking for anything specific, she just felt better after she reassured herself that nothing was wrong. She did it a couple times each day, when time allowed. The living room was fine, though cluttered with everyone’s stuff. There was no way to keep it uncluttered with so many people in there, and she’d more or less given up trying. The kitchen too was in order, and
that
room
, as her mother called it, she kept immaculate. The others had damned well learned quickly not to leave a mess in there, she thought with satisfaction. Until they finished the outdoor kitchen, all cooking had to be done either over an outside fire pit or in her kitchen, and leaving a kitchen messy took unacceptable chances with health. In this world, it just wasn’t an option. There was a reason so many cultures put clean kitchens high on their lists of virtues.

So next, she headed upstairs and checked her bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. She hadn’t left it that way, and Cassy tensed, approached the door with her hand on the grip of the .40 caliber she’d traded her .38 for, and flung the door open with a bang.

On the bed, Cassy’s mom jumped in alarm, then realized it was her daughter. “Goodness, Cassy, you’ll give an old woman a heart attack,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah right, Mom. You’re going to outlive us all,” Cassy teased. But then Cassy saw what was on the bed, and froze. It was a box of small glass vials, all but a few of them empty. “Mom… tell me that’s not your insulin. You have more, right?”

Mandy frowned and shook her head. “No, dear, this is all I have left. I figured I’d tell you in a day or two if the scouts didn’t find any more while they’re out and about looking for other survivors.”

“But you’re almost out, Mom,” Cassy said, her irritation rising.

Mandy flinched at the harsh tone. “Calm down, sweetie. You know that the Lord will provide, if it’s meant to happen. Either we’ll find more, or I’ll go to be with my husband, and that’s a fine thing, too.”

Cassy flashed at her mother. “Not yet it’s not. Jesus, Mom, you can’t get this low without telling me!”

Mandy pursed her lips. “Do
not
speak like that in front of me. Show respect for the Lord, or at least for me. You aren’t too old for me to yell at you in front of everyone. Anyway, I raised you better than that.”

Cassy took a deep breath and let it out. “I know, Mom. I’m sorry, and I know the Lord loves us. I just… You scare me when you get low on your insulin. For crying out loud, this place is overflowing with fruits and vegetables, and grains too.
Why
do you keep eating so much meat and bread, and putting so much honey in your tea, and—”

Mandy held up her hand, palm toward Cassy, and brought the interruption to a halt. “I’m an old woman, sweetie. I don’t have your father anymore, so I take comfort where I can. If comfort is a bad diet, I’m okay with that. Why not? When I’m done here on Earth, I’ll be with him again. All the rest is fuss and feathers and barking at nothing. Dying holds no fear for me, sweetie.”

“Fine, I know you don’t care. You say so often enough. But Aidan and Brianna care, and I care, and the whole Clan cares because without your help organizing things we’d lose precious time. We need all the time we can get to be ready for winter. We need you not to leave us just yet.” By now Cassy’s eyes had taken on a mischievous sparkle. She added, “But I guess you can thank God, because I thought to stockpile a bunch of it here, down in the bunker.”

Mandy’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Perhaps He gave you that idea, Cassy. And just how, sweetie, did you get your hands on ‘a bunch of insulin’? Do you have a prescription? Why didn’t you tell me you have diabetes?”

Cassy smiled. “No, Mom, I’m fine. You don’t need a prescription when you know people who can get on the Dark Web.”

Mandy looked up with one eyebrow raised, and the confused look on her face made Cassy smile. “It’s like a hidden internet that you get on with a special browser and a VPN…” Her mother looked even more blank so Cassy brought it back down a level. “Anyway, you could get just about anything needed before it all fell apart. That’s where I got my stockpile of medicines. Antibiotics, insulin, and so on. I have months of insulin for you, because I bought enough for the neighbors when I thought the end of the world would be due to the dollar collapsing. We’re well stocked now, even in this nightmare where everyone is starving to death. We have more than you need, for quite a while.”

Cassy put on a happy face, but inside she seethed in frustration. The insulin wouldn’t last forever despite what she told her mom, and if she couldn’t get her mom to eat a more diabetic-friendly diet, it was just a matter of time until Grandma Mandy would be gone. She wished she could make that frustrating old lady eat right, but no one could force Mandy to do anything. A stubborn, strong old lady. It was probably where Cassy got it, come to think of it.

“Love you, Mom. Think about eating some kale, okay?” But she knew Mandy would do no such thing. Sighing, she made a mental note to put insulin on the scrounger’s A-List of items to look for.

* * *

Taggart looked up at the hot afternoon sky and wished it were cooler. But then again, winter would come all too soon, if they lived that long. He’d take summer discomfort over winter’s whole different set of more lethal challenges. He didn’t know how he’d keep his men alive. Well, one obstacle would be the same: Mr. Black and his goons, as always, were threatening to get out of control. Self-control, reasoning, and thinking beyond the next impulse? Not their strong suit. At least the Militia folks and Taggart’s own soldiers were towing Taggart’s line. The soldiers did already, and all it had taken to get the Militia forces under his chain of command was to tell them they were now in the regular military under the declaration of Martial Law, and the future depended on them. You could see them stand straighter when they heard that. No, they were almost all completely with the program now.

Some had resisted, of course. Barracks lawyer types claimed they were under State authority via the Posse Comitatus regs, until Taggart pointed out there was no State-level chain of command and they were superseded by the Enforcement Acts in the mid-’50s. In occupied territory, military regs for troops applied.

But what really brought them in was peer pressure by the other Militia troops. They hadn’t been disorderly since. Taggart was happy, for once, to have received all that training about such issues in NCO school. He’d hated it at the time—useless civilian garbage—but it came in handy now…

Eagan stood beside him in silence for a while, but then broke into his thought. “Hey Cap, how come those gangbanger assholes get to do what they want? I mean, you’re in charge of them too, right?”

Taggart grimaced. “It seems the gangbangers who follow Mr. Black don’t want to obey the rules of Martial Law. Our problem with them is, Mr. Black takes every opportunity to undermine military authority. He told his ’bangers he was pissed at the Militia for ‘betraying his trust.’ Black’s connections brought the Militia in, after all, so I can understand why he was pissed. Command Chain issues are
always
a pain in the ass, Eagan. Remember that if you ever shape up enough to hit NCO.”

Taggart ignored Eagan’s insubordinate chuckle, of course—this was just how they interacted in private. Eagan was a good soldier most of the time and could be counted on when it all hit the fan at once. He’d seen that when the ’vaders took out the rest of his troops. But Eagan had a point; sooner or later Black needed his comeuppance. Under the terms of Martial Law, he had potentially become treasonous, to say nothing of Black’s role in getting Taggart’s poor kid brother killed, long ago. Taggart smiled at the thought of applying comeuppance personally. But not before he tried it out on Chongo first. Now
there
was a case of treason no one would dispute.